Toy Soldier
by Valyx
Summary: One year after the Gurren Brigade vanquished the AntiSpiral threat, and Yoko is lost within her depression brought on by Kamina's death. She struggles to find a way to deal with the pain and recover from a tramatic incident. YokoxViral, YokoxRossiu.


Okay, so this is my first shot at fan fiction and I'd like you guys to tell me how I'm doing. There's definitely more coming, and I'm really hoping to update it weekly. I just went through and fixed all my typing errors and practically doubled the story in size. It's far from finished though. There's going to be plenty of Viral x Yoko, some Rossiu x Yoko, and even some Kamina x Yoko (she sounds like a whore right now, but honestly, read it 'cause this sounds very out of context). Please comment, I'm open to constructive criticism (no bashing please). ~Valyx 3

I don't own Gurren Lagann or its characters and I don't own the song either. It is called Toy Soldier by Martika and that's where I came up with the name for my story(well, sorta, I thought of the name first then remembered the song and thought it fit nicely).

Update- Sorry for not updating. I swear, I'm writing, I just haven't had the chance to type it all up yet. When I update next, it will be huge.

* * *

_Step by step, heart to heart, left right left,  
__We all fall down, like toy soldiers._

Every night it was the same, monotonous cycle. She would sit aimlessly in her apartment and wallow in self-pity. The war had been the only thing that had kept her going, and now that it was over, she didn't have enough distractions to keep her mind off the memories she'd rather never remember.

As the memories would come flooding back, she'd curl into a ball and cry until her eyes were red-rimmed and her chest ached from the uncontrollable sobs that were incited by every shuddering breath that she struggled to take. Eventually the tears would stop and once her body had numbed itself against the pain, she'd begin to pace back and forth across her tiny apartment. From there her anxiety would build until she couldn't stand it anymore, and she would storm out the door to wander the streets in solitude.

Tonight was just like every other night. She slowly walked down the sidewalk, avoiding the stares and whispers of the city's residents. Though the revolution had ended nearly a year ago, there were still throngs of people who treated her as a celebrity. They would stop and stare as she made her way past them before turning away and muttering amongst themselves. Something about her kept them from approaching, but something else (whether it be pity, awe, or for their own lecherous pleasure) wouldn't let them look away.

Without a second thought she entered a small, run-down building which stood at the corner of an alley. The smell of alcohol mixed with the repugnant odor of tightly packed bodies hit her as she walked in. It was bad enough to make anyone fresh off the street crinkle their nose in distaste, but if she noticed it, she showed no signs of disgust. Several slimy, ragged men gave catcalls and yelled obscene suggestions as she took a seat at the bar, but these too went unnoticed.

She held up her index finger to catch the bar keeper's attention and he turned, taking a glass from the shelf and filling it with a clear, pungent liquid. It would figure that her favorite drink also happened to be the strongest liquor served in Kamina city. The villages farther away occasionally had stronger stuff, but it tasted like crap, and she was picky when it came to her alcohol. She'd literally stumbled across this dump after several days of nonstop bar hopping and found that while it may look and smell like a pig-mole sty, it had the best quality hooch in the city.

She downed the shot in one gulp and motioned for another. While she may be thin and female, she was no lightweight. She could hold her own against just about anyone in the Gurren Brigade (Viral could really put it away, a feat which surprised them all). She finished her second shot, then a third. Her head was only just starting to buzz, so she drank yet a fourth and a fifth glass. Feeling pleasantly tingly now, she thought that maybe she could go back to dealing with the world. Maybe, she was just drunk enough to be able to attend the gala that was being held in honor of the Gurren Brigade's conquest tonight. Then, just maybe, Rossiu might stop riding her ass for alienating herself from everyone and avoiding all these necessary (according to him) public appearances. As if seeing the legendary Yoko Rittona in her debilitated, miserable state would somehow improve the government's image. The thought amused her and at the same time made her feel slightly nauseous, but she paid her tab and headed out the door.

_Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win,  
__But the battle rages on, for toy soldiers._

* * *

She stopped by her apartment to change and freshen up before grabbing a taxi to take her toward the center of the city. Even in her somewhat inebriated state she couldn't help but notice that the taxi driver was looking at her more often than at the road in front of him. She didn't blame him. The slinky, black, halter-top dress she was wearing was far from modest. Her fiery red hair was up in its usual ponytail, minus the chopsticks. Black, gladiator style, lace-up heels had taken the place of her white boots, and instead of her scarf, she was wearing a simple, silver locket on a chain.

She thanked the driver, an handing him the money before getting out of the cab and walking up the steps to the front of the massive building. She could see several hundred guests milling about through the windows and despite her earlier attempt to oppress her emotions with alcohol, her stomach churned nervously. As soon as she walked in, she knew that everyone would be looking at her, and this was the reason for her hesitation. Some would look on with disdain, some with admiration, and a few others with lust. At this last one she shivered in disgust. She hadn't become close to anyone since…and there her brain stopped. It was unbearable for her to think his name, and she had trained her mind to shut off when she started to remember. It usually worked…unless she was sober. She shook her head to clear it and taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and pushed open the grand, ornate doors.

Her fears proved to be fruitless as she was enveloped by the murmur of voices and laughter. No one ceased their conversations to turn and gawk. In fact, only a few people who stood closest to the doors even bothered a glance in her direction. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she wandered slowly amongst the crowd of people, looking for her fellow ganmen pilots. Jougan and Barinbou were sitting at a table shoveling food into their mouths as fast as they could swallow, from plates that overflowed with shaky piles of what appeared to be pig-mole steaks. Knowing talk with them would be limited to only a few grunts and an occasional word, she kept walking. Her eyes settled on Dayakka and Kiyoh, looking like a picturesque family with their daughter Anne snuggled between them. Smiling, she walked over to them and bent down, picking up little Anne and sitting her gently on her hip. Anne squealed and grabbed a hold of Yoko's necklace, kicking her legs and squirming with joy.

_To be continued..._


End file.
